


closing time

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, grocery store au, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:43:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex looks up at the clock that hangs crookedly above the automatic doors.  It’s five till midnight, and he’s swept, he’s mopped the floors, he’s front-faced all the merchandise on the shelves, and he’s counted down his drawer.  Only five minutes separate him from the end of a double shift and the warmth of his bed, the promise of sleeping in tomorrow morning glowing on the horizon.  He can’t wait to pull up the covers and fall asleep to his cat, Charlie, purring loudly on the pillow next to him.  </p><p>And then Brendan walks in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	closing time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [meerminne (ariadne_belle)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=meerminne+%28ariadne_belle%29).



> A fluffy treat for sweet meerminne. I hope you enjoy!

Alex looks up at the clock that hangs crookedly above the automatic doors. It’s five till midnight, and he’s swept, he’s mopped the floors, he’s front-faced all the merchandise on the shelves, and he’s counted down his drawer. Only five minutes separate him from the end of a double shift and the warmth of his bed, the promise of sleeping in tomorrow morning glowing on the horizon. He can’t wait to pull up the covers and fall asleep to his cat, Charlie, purring loudly on the pillow next to him. 

A burst of cold air makes him raise his head, and he groans quietly when he realizes it’s from the door sliding open. He could be a dick and call out, “Sorry, we’re closed!” but that’s just not the kind of person he is, so he sighs, resigned, and hops down from the counter.

“Can I help you find anything?” he asks the guy who’s walked -- well, stumbled is more like it -- into the store, his hands shoved into his pockets and his cheeks red from the cold. The guy grins, broad and bright, and it lights up his whole face. 

“Heyyyyy,” he says, and yanks a cart from the island. He pulls so hard it makes the other carts separate from where Alex had them perfectly lined up, and Alex sighs and tilts his head back, staring at the ceiling and already mourning the loss of at least an hour of sleep. “Just looking,” the guy says, then giggles and heads down aisle one -- canned goods. 

“Looking for anything specific?” Alex calls out, hoping to speed the process along. The guy hiccups loudly and shakes his head. 

“I’m _starving_ ,” he complains, and stops in the middle of the aisle when something, apparently, catches his attention. He crouches down, and Alex watches as he teeters on the balls of his feet, nearly toppling over. “Do you have a can opener?” he asks, and pulls a can of corn from the shelf.

Alex snorts. “No, buddy, sorry, you’ll have to open that up at home.” 

“I had too many beers tonight,” the guy says, and Alex isn’t sure if he’s talking to him or to himself, but he listens anyway. The last thing he needs is this guy puking on his freshly mopped floor, so he keeps a close eye on him as he rounds aisle two. “And now I’m _starving_.”

Seconds later, Alex hears a crash, and he cringes when he realizes the guy must have run his cart into the display of Pop Tarts near the endcap between one and two. The rapid thud-thud-thud sound he hears has to be the boxes hitting the floor, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, huffing an annoyed laugh when he hears the guy whisper “oh shit” loudly.

When he makes his way to the mess, the guy is crouched in the middle of it, boxes of Pop Tarts surrounding him. He has one in each hand and is trying, unsuccessfully, to balance them back on the table. He looks up at Alex with wide, apologetic eyes, and Alex folds his arms over his chest.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” the guy says. “It jumped out at me, outta nowhere! I didn’t even see it coming! I’ll help you pick it up, I’m so sorry.”

Alex heaves a sigh and squats down next to him, taking the boxes from his hands and placing them on the table. “You pick them up,” he says, “and I’ll put them back. Deal?”

The guy nods quickly and starts gathering boxes up in his hands. Alex can’t help it -- as annoyed as he is, the sight of this drunk guy cradling a dozen boxes of Pop Tarts in his arms is kind of hilarious.

And adorable, apparently, if the warm feeling of fondness washing over Alex is any indication. 

“I’m Alex,” he says, pushing the thought to the back of his mind. “I’ve been here since nine am, I’m exhausted, and I was _this close_ to going home when you walked in.”

“Oh,” the guy says, handing Alex a couple more boxes. “Uh, I’m Brendan. I had too much fun at a party, I saw this place on my walk home, and all I want is a frozen pizza and my bed.” Alex smiles -- he can’t help it -- and shakes his head. 

“I asked if you needed help finding anything,” he says, and gets to his feet when the last box is stacked on the top of the display. “Pizzas are in the back, in the third freezer from the end.”

“Thanks,” Brendan says, wiping his hands on his jeans. He’s cute, Alex thinks, with his dark hair and his broad shoulders and his face-splitting smile. “I’ll just --” he nods in the direction of the freezer and wanders off, leaving Alex to take his place behind the counter and wait.

“Hey Alex,” Brendan shouts a few minutes later. “Do you have pineapple and bacon?”

“This isn’t a pizza parlour,” Alex calls back. “We have whatever we have in the freezer.”

Alex hears the quiet “thwump” of the freezer door closing, then the clomp of Brendan’s feet against the floor as he makes his way back to the front.

Empty-handed.

“I really want pineapple and bacon,” he says wistfully, and when he leans against the counter, his tshirt goes tight around his biceps. He looks up at Alex under his (very long) eyelashes. “You sure there’s not some in the back?”

Alex snorts. “No, man, there’s none in the back. Prusty’s Pies is just down the street, and they’re open late. Why don’t you just go there?”

Brendan huffs, as if Alex has offended him somehow. “I’m not going there _alone_ ,” he scoffs. Alex rolls his eyes, a little bit of that initial annoyance creeping back in. It’s ten past midnight now, and at this rate, he’ll be lucky to be home by one. 

“Fine, man, don’t go then. Or go, I don’t care, but if you’re not gonna buy something, you’re gonna have to get out. I’m closing up.”

Brendan hesitates for a minute, then sighs dramatically. “Fine,” he says, and shuffles towards the door. It opens, and another blast of cold air breezes in, and Alex is so close to freedom he can almost taste it.

And then Brendan freezes, and the door closes, and Alex’s shoulders slump in resignation. 

“Come on, man, you’re killing me,” Alex says, and Brendan turns around, a small grin playing on his face.

“How about,” he starts, “you close up, and come have pizza _with_ me! You gotta be hungry, right, you’ve been here all day!”

Alex can feel the back of his neck heating up, creeping up over his collar and into his face. “I had lunch,” he says, and Brendon rolls his eyes.

“Lunch was hours ago,” he says, and his grin widens. “Come on, Alex. Come eat pizza with me.”

“I don’t even know you,” Alex says, by way of excuse, but of course, his traitorous stomach chooses that exact moment to growl angrily, protesting the fact that he’s been feeding it only stale chips and slushies all day. Brendan’s smile goes impossibly brighter, and Alex is probably in a lot of trouble here.

“My treat,” Brendan says. “For making you stay open late.”

Alex shifts from one foot to the other, and Brendan just stands there, waiting for an answer. 

Brendan cocks his head, shrugs his shoulders, and Alex gives in.

“Should I wait outside?” Brendan asks, and Alex nods, heading back behind the counter to lock his drawer up in the safe. 

“I’ll just be a minute,” Alex tells him, and Brendan flips the collar of his coat up and pulls his shoulders up by his ears before slipping out into the night to wait.

Alex goes through and turns off the lights, looking over his shoulder one last time before turning off the automatic doors and locking them up for the night. 

Brendan’s hands are tucked into the pockets of his coat. His nose is a little red, and his eyes are dancing. He's smiling goofily,and it's probably because of the beer coursing through his veins, Alex thinks, but it’s nice to think that maybe some of it has a little to do with him. It makes his stomach somersault, and when Brendan knocks their shoulders together and they fall into a quiet step next to one another, their elbows touching every few strides, Alex thinks that maybe his bed can wait a little longer. 

He’s plenty warm right here.


End file.
